


Thunder Rolls

by Monalisasandmadhatters20



Series: Thunder [5]
Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Abuse, Eating Disorders, Happy ending at some point, I promise, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, body image issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monalisasandmadhatters20/pseuds/Monalisasandmadhatters20
Summary: Taron gave up on quieting his demons, and went off alone.  He made many mistakes, and is doing his best to allow those closest to him to help him get through it.  Can he and Richard make up for their pasts, and have a brighter future?
Relationships: Taron Egerton/Richard Madden
Series: Thunder [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600285
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

_ Do you ever wonder… How different our lives would be... if we hadn’t taken the roles _ , _ Dickie? _

Richard had replied in the negative, of course he did, because really, his life hadn’t changed, but Taron thought about it every waking moment of every day. Would he have to chase away the hangovers with a few pills and a whisky chaser each morning? Would he wile away the hours alone, curtains drawn taut, memories of the night before playing within his mind’s eye with disturbing clarity, only to go out and do it  _ again  _ the next evening? Would his self image issues have magnified to the point he could barely look at food without feeling overwhelming nausea?

_ What are we? _

Engame. We are endgame, he had said, but that was as far as he took it. Words. Only words... Taron had waited months and months for something, anything at all to make it worth his time staying, and even at the end Richard was distant. They fucked, of course. They cuddled tiredly on the sofa after long days on their different sets whenever possible. They even kissed sometimes, gentle and loving, hard and domineering, but proof Richard would be Taron’s own endgame never surfaced. He was kept at arms length, whether it be because Richard wanted to protect him, or he didn’t really mean the words he uttered, Taron never did find out.

_ Do you ever wonder… How different our lives would be… If I just left...? _

That had gotten a rise out of him, Taron remembered. He thankfully did not remember the argument that had come from  _ that _ can of worms very well, enough booze can make a lot of things ( _ memories)  _ fade over time. He just remembered being astonished that Richard truly cared about him, when every action and reaction up until that point seemed contrary. Taron remembered leaving Richard’s flat more confused than he had ever been in his life.

So he found a new place. He found a new life. He left Richard behind. And he regretted every sober moment.

***

There were weeks in which the drinking stopped altogether. There were weeks in which he would go with nothing stronger than coca cola, or sometimes even water when his body screamed for it, and the headaches that plagued him normally would vanish. There were also weeks in which he would not snort all the drugs within the vicinity in mere minutes, something a close friend was guilty of in the height of his addiction as well. There were weeks in which he would not swallow handful after handful of pills, with hopes that _something_ would fill the aching hole within his heart. (Or stop it, he was never quite certain what his state of mind was when he chased them down with the booze). 

Sometimes those weeks... They even happened simultaneously and he could actually _think_.

There were weeks in which he didn’t roam the pubs or clubs to find a random man to share a bed with after the painful breakup with the ‘love of his life.’ There were weeks in which he lay alone in his suite of rooms and stared at the ceiling, wondering when his time would come. There were weeks in which he looked at his reflection and saw that he was a man who could be loved, if he allowed it. If the voices in his head quieted enough, that was.

This was not one of those weeks.

Taron sat at the pub with his head in his hands. He had done so well in quitting the booze. Everyone, himself included, had been so proud of how far he had come. He sipped gingerly at his whiskey as he did his best to pretend the mess of empty tumblers in front of him were not his. He did his best to pretend he hadn’t snorted line after line just before coming out to the pub as well. He did his best to pretend everything was bloody fine and dandy and his life was just peachy and all those other idioms people liked to spout when things were not quite going their way.

Because he couldn’t pretend much longer.

He threw a wad of bills onto the bar, and carefully stood from the stool. “Thanks, mate,” he said quietly, tipping his hat at the bartender, before throwing his coat over his shoulders. He staggered out of the pub alone, somehow able to make it out the door and into the back of the taxi with the shred of dignity he had left.

Until he threw up just outside his rented home, onto his leather boots and the cuffs of his dungarees. He ended the depressing night crawling up the stairs in the wee hours of the morning light, feeling quite sorry for himself indeed...

***

_“This is Taron. Leave a message!”_

Richard groaned, throwing his phone on his bed. “I don’t want to leave a bleeding message, I want to talk to you, you tit!” He lost count of the number of messages he had left for his ex-boyfriend over the last several months. He knew Taron was unwell, anyone could tell by the random photos leaked to the different tabloids that seemed to always make it on the front page, and he _needed_ to talk to him and find out just how poorly he was doing before he pulled out all his hair.

He had stopped by Taron’s flat, only to have the door answered by a little old lady who had moved in not too long after Taron broke up with him, it seemed. He had moved and he hadn’t told anyone, not even his poor Mum, who was even more worried than Richard was at this point.

Richard had stopped at all the pubs the pictures were taken at, but it seemed he drifted from one to the another too frequently to find him that way. He had missed so many meetings with his agent she had stopped trying to book him for any auditions in his fruitless quest to find Taron. 

His life was in shambles, and he had no one to turn to.

He stood on his balcony, staring at the rising sun, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He ran his fingers through his curls, praying to God that Taron was alright. Because if he wasn’t…

Richard didn’t know what he was going to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Taron came to all at once. He couldn’t figure out what it was that woke him, at first. He blinked the last vestige of sleep from his eyes before groaning loudly. His bedmate was  _ still _ fucking snoring. After months of (mostly) sleeping alone, the sound was like a jackhammer in his head. He ran his hands over his face, his lips, his neck, before they landed on his temples. He rubbed them softly, hoping the pain would diminish by his will alone. 

But he knew better by now...

He glared at his bedmate who slept soundly, albeit loudly, beside him, wishing he could sleep half as well on any given night.

He swung his legs off the side of the bed, looking around the strange room he found himself in. He shrugged to himself, finding himself in worse situations over the course of several months, and counting himself lucky he awoke to one man instead of the four he found himself with a few days ago. He lifted himself off the bed, vaguely remembering the way to the loo the man ( _ Joseph? Jason? Fuck… Javier, maybe? It started with a bloody J, I reckon _ ) had shown him the night before. He didn’t remember much of the night, but with his clothes scattered throughout the flat, they must have had fun.

He splashed cold water on his face before looking in the medicine cabinet above the sink for any form of painkillers as he really didn’t think he’d make it back to his home with the way his head was pounding at the moment, only to find it completely empty. He barely stifled his groan before slamming the cabinet shut.

“Who doesn’t have painkillers in their medicine cabinet?,” he grumbled, pulling his shirt over his head. “Even I have painkillers in my medicine cabinet and I’ve barely anything at my flat…”

He finished dressing as quickly as he was able, and slinked out the front door. Speaking to them in the morning when he was partially sober was never part of the game.

***

  
  


It took the better part of the day, and a good portion of his liquor cabinet, for his hangover to subside. It seemed to get worse each time he got drunk, yet the cycle continued. A smart man would chat up an old friend, not the circle he found himself in lately. A smart man would go through the steps he had done before when he had gotten sober, meetings, perhaps even some sort of therapy... A smart man would work hard to ensure the cycle would bloody end before he ended himself.

He never said he was a smart man…

***

“Still no word here… Yes, alright… Uh huh… Alright, bye for now.”

Elton handed David’s phone back to him without a word, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He didn’t notice how hard he was trembling until he picked up his cup of tea and spilt it all over the front of his jumper. “David, I…”

“I know, babe. I know,” he replied, wrapping his arm around Elton’s shoulders. Because he did know how terrible Elton felt. He did know how useless he felt. He did know how much he wished Taron would reach out to them, because he felt the same way. “We just have to keep hope alive right now, love. When he’s ready, he’ll come back.”

“And if he’s never ready?”

David shrugged. “He’ll be ready soon enough…”  _ I hope… _

  
  


***

_ “This is Taron! Leave a message!” _

Richard threw his phone against the wall with a scream. He heard it shatter, but he couldn’t find it within him to care. He collapsed on his bed, so big and empty without Taron’s warmth beside him. He threw his arm over his eyes and sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

Richard had told himself this would be the last night he spent searching for his lost mate. This would be the last night he traveled between dingy pubs and seedy clubs instead of sleeping. This would be the last night he spent fretting over ever seeing his ex boyfriend again. He would search tonight one last time, and then return to his own life tomorrow. He had put it on hold long enough with the fruitless searches that took up much of his time.

He almost fell flat on his face when he spotted the familiar fedora set low upon his brow. Taron was seated at the bar in clothes that had truly seen better days. He looked like just a regular ol’ drunk with the amount of empty tumblers and shot glasses that set before him. He wondered idly why the bartender hadn’t taken the empties behind the counter yet as he set yet another drink in front of him. 

_ Maybe it’s Taron’s way of keeping count... _ _ He always had a strange need to keep count of everything,  _ Richard thought, a half smile on his face, as he remembered Taron’s little notebook he carried with him in his back pocket everywhere they went.  _ Elton said he did the same, and had since he was a boy. When you can’t control something in your life, you take control of what you can, he had said. Perhaps Taron can’t keep control of his drinking right now, but he can control how many of each drink he does have. _

It made sense, he supposed, in a Taron way.

“Gin and tonic, if you please,” he murmured when the bartender finally looked his way. He tapped the bar with his fingers, thankful that Taron had not spotted him just yet.  _ All this time searching for you, and I have no idea what to say now that I have found you, _ he thought, looking at him wistfully. “Thank you,” he said, accepting the drink with a grateful smile. 

He sipped at his drink gingerly, watching as the bartender set another shot of  _ something _ in front of Taron, and  _ sure enough, there’s the notebook _ , before turning towards the other patrons. Richard took a deep breath and finally made his way towards Taron.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Richard said quietly, setting his drink on the bartop. “May I sit?”

Taron blinked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. “Dickie? Wha’re you doin’ here?,” he asked, his voice slurred, watching as Richard slid the shot glass just out of his reach.

“Looking for you, my love. You’ve been incredibly hard to find, let me tell you…,” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “Come on, love, let’s get you home. You’ve had enough for tonight, I think.”

Taron shook his head quickly, and then moaned. “Ouch,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“Yes, Taron. You’ve had quite enough,” Richard said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You have to be tired of running. You have to be tired of dealing with everything in your head alone, why else would you be drinking every night again? Let me take you home, love. Let me take care of you.” Richard gently wiped Taron’s tears away with his thumb. “Everyone is so worried about you, Taron. Let me take control, just for a little bit, love. I promise, you’ll feel so much better. Let me in, my love. Let me in.”

Taron allowed Richard to help him to his feet. “Need’ta pay,” he said, fumbling for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I have it, love,” Richard replied, taking Taron’s hand in his own. He threw a few notes on the counter, knowing it was more than enough and he really shouldn’t tip so much when the bartender should have known to stop serving him many drinks ago, but he just wanted to get Taron home. 

“Peppermint has missed you, darling,” Richard said, buckling Taron’s seatbelt for him since he doubted his fingers would work properly to do it himself. “He’s going to be so happy to see you. I...” Richard smiled down at him.

He was fast asleep already.

  
  
  


*****

  
  


“Richard found him. A little worse for wear, but he found him, love,” David said, placing his mobile phone on the coffee table. “He is in bed at Richard’s flat, no doubt ready to wake with a horrible hangover. Richard wants us, and his parents, to come over later on, once he’s got Taron sobered up enough to know what’s going on. Do you want to?”

Elton looked at him crossly, folding his arms across the front of his tartan pajamas. “Of course I  _ want _ to, David, but should we? Are we really the people Taron needs to see right now, when really I caused this situation in the first place?”

“What are you talking about, darling?,” David asked, feeling rather cross himself. “He  _ chose _ to do this, it has nothing to do with you or me. You didn’t sit there and force him to drink, did you? You didn’t sit there and shove drugs up him, did you? Of course not. It’s not always all about you, Elton, and it certainly is not always your fault.”

Elton shook his head as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Perhaps not, but he still began because he wanted to play me with certainty, didn’t he? I’m sleeping in the guest room, don’t come after me.”

David shook his head in amazement as Elton limped out of their bedroom. He loved his husband, he really did, but sometimes his ego knew no bounds.

  
  


***

Richard opened the door and smiled. “Jamie! Oh I’m so glad you could come! I know things are busy with you at home,” he said, pulling him in for a hug. 

Jamie frowned at how much weight Richard had lost, and found himself worried even more for Taron’s wellbeing. Richard was always so cool and collected, and to hear him over the several months apart coming undone was tough, but to see the effects was even worse. “You know I’d drop anything for you and Taron both, Rich,” he replied when they stepped apart once again. “How is he, really?”

“He’s still sleeping peacefully right now. I’m not going to lie, he looks rough, Jamie. There is nothing to him anymore. I bathed him when we got back here last night, because he looked and smelled like he hadn’t taken on in weeks, and I counted all of his bones… I put him in a shirt and joggers he had left behind and they are hanging off of him.” Richard took a deep, shuddering breath. “I just… I can’t help him. I know I can’t, but maybe you and his mum and stepdad, and maybe even Elton and David can.”

Jamie put his hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Don’t forget about yourself, Rich. You need some help too.”

Richard shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine.”

Jamie smiled slightly. “Of course you are. That’s why you haven’t worked since Taron’s left. That’s why you only left your flat to search for him at night, and get drunk yourself. That’s why you’ve lost at least a stone, if not more, because you are fine, mate, right?”

Richard nodded, albeit uncomfortably. “When Taron is set up with something, I’ll think about me. Right now, he is what matters, Jamie. Don’t make this more uncomfortable than it needs to be, alright?”

Jamie nodded. “Sure, sure, whatever. I’m going in to see him. Go lay on the couch or something, mate, before you pass out.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jamie sat beside Taron on the bed, dabbing his sweaty forehead with a cool washcloth he had found in the adjoining bathroom, the frown seemingly permanently etched on his face by now. Even when Richard said he looked rough, he hadn’t expected this. His heart broke at Taron’s soft mewling sounds of distress, unable to even escape the pain whilst sleeping. He had been hurting for so long, Jamie knew, from the snippets of conversation they had had over the course of a few months before he all but disappeared from the world. Jamie could have kicked himself for not doing something sooner.

Taron slowly opened his eyes. “Ja’ie? Wha’?”

“Shhh, mate. You’re okay. Let’s get some water into ya, eh? You must be thirsty,” Jamie said, helping him sit up just enough to not dribble water down his shirt. “You’re at Richard’s flat. He found you drinking it up last night and thought it best to bring you here to sober up a bit.”

“Dickie foun’ me? Bleeding wonderful, Jamie-boy...,” Taron said, shaking his head before wincing. “Got any painkillers ‘round here? Head’s gonna explode, mate.”

Jamie nodded with a smile. “Figured as much. Here ya go, mate,” he said, dropping a couple of paracetamols in his hand. “I thought you’d need them when you finally opened your eyes. Rich said you had a good twenty empty glasses in front of you when he finally found you.”

Taron snorted. “Bloody dramatic man… Maybe 8, at most. Check my notebook. It’ll tell ya.”

Jamie shrugged. “Even one is too many right now, mate, and you know it,” he said quietly, folding his arms across his chest. “Do you realize how worried we all were about you, Taron? The only saving grace was those stupid pap photos plastered in the tabloids within the supermarkets every week. Your Mam sent us pictures of them every time she found one saying ‘He’s alive, for now.’” Taron winced. “No texts. No calls. Just vanished. The question I have is why? Why would you cut everyone, your Mam, your old mates, your little sisters… Hell, even Elton… out of your life? You have to have gotten the messages left for you.”

Taron shrugged. “I broke my phone about a week after leaving and never got it replaced. Didn’t see a point. I didn’t plan to live much longer after that. How I have fucking surprises me.”

“Who’s your sponsor?,” Jamie asked suddenly. “Your AA sponsor, I mean.”

Taron winced again. “David.”

“I see,” Jamie replied, getting to his feet. He smiled down at him. “Well… you’re about to have a _very_ uncomfortable meeting, I think, then. I’ve said my piece, and I’ve gotten the information I needed to know. Now it’s David’s turn with ya. Elton couldn’t make it this afternoon, but wishes you well.”

“No, Jamie, don’t…”

“I have to, mate. There are plenty of people out there that want time alone with you. I was just the one who got picked to sit with you until you awoke.” Jamie squeezed Taron’s shoulder. “It’s going to be alright, mate. We all still love you, so so much.”

Taron groaned when Jamie exited and David entered the bedroom, and folded his arms across his chest rather childishly. He didn’t want to see anyone, and once he felt he could heft himself out of bed he would go back to his house and hide from the whole bloody world.

Again.

  
  


*****

_Please don’t leave us, Taron. I know what's going on in your head right now, but please don’t put me through that again._

Taron nibbled his bottom lip, feeling the beginnings of tears in his eyes. His mam looked at him with such love and concern it made him fidget slightly on the bed. If he thought he looked bad, his poor mam looked even worse, and _he_ caused it. “I won’t, Mam, I promise,” he said, because really, he couldn’t do that to his wonderful mother again. 

“Come home with me. Your sisters and Da’ have been so worried. Or go to Elton and David’s again. They helped before, didn’t they? Just don’t go home alone today, love.”

Taron nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “I have to go home at some point and get my things, silly,” he said jokingly, though the joke fell short with the amount of emotion he was repressing. He cleared his throat. “David already said I am going home with him. Elton blames himself for my relapse, so I need to go give him a good talking to apparently. Can you believe that? Little old me, giving _the_ Elton John a good talking to?” They laughed together. “Don’t worry, Mam, as soon as I get a new phone I’ll be in contact with you so much you ignore my calls. I swear it.” Taron sighed. “So when will I see Richard, eh?”

“Oh, Richard isn’t here, darling, didn’t David tell you? He went with Jamie to his flat. He thought it better that way for you.”

Taron swallowed harshly. “Better for me… Yeah… Alright…”

_I might not be happy he found me, but I am happy to know he cared enough about me to search for me. Oh, Dickie, wherever you actually are, I do hope you’re alright._

_Because you are still my only reason for living. My only reason for waking. My only reason for sleeping. Even if I tried to shut that part off with substances, it never wavered. I only see that now, without the drink or drug in my system. You are the reason i never pulled that trigger..._

_Come home to me._


	5. Slowly.  Steadily.  Surely...

“You need to get up, Taron.”

Taron groaned, pulling the duvet up and over his head. The routine was the same each and every day. David would come in and tell him he needed to get up. Taron would hide either under the pillow or duvet, only for David to pull it off the bed. Taron would be blinded by the sun coming from the open curtain, and he would be hefted up and out of bed if he didn’t comply immediately.

Today was no different.

Taron stood shivering in the middle of his bedroom in only his joggers, whilst David talked and talked and talked. He should be thankful someone cared enough about him to ensure he didn’t sleep the day away, they said. He should be thankful someone cared enough to ensure he was fed and watered on a regular basis, they said. He should be thankful that someone was willing to deal with his moods as he walked the jagged rocks of sobriety, they said.

But he wasn’t. Not yet, at least.

“... And Jamie will be coming by for lunch today with Richard…”

Taron flinched. It had been months since he’d seen Dickie, the drunken night he was finally found didn’t count as he really didn’t remember much about their encounter. He knew it was coming, David had been saying they needed to see each other and work things out since his first day here, but it didn’t mean he had to be happy about the fact, did he?

“... The boys and Elton made breakfast today, as we gave the cook the day off for his anniversary. Pretend it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten. All three are quite proud of their… concoction.”

Taron nodded with a yawn. “I’m going to get in the shower, mate. I’ll be down shortly,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. He rolled his eyes at David’s slightly dubious look. “Yes, I’ll make it down and won’t go back to bed, I swear it.”

David nodded. “If you aren’t down in twenty minutes, bub, I’ll be right back up. Sleeping all day isn’t good for the soul. Plus you have your meeting to go to at ten. Ninety in ninety you swore to,” he reminded him gently.

Taron waved him off as he headed to the adjoining bath. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said, slamming the door shut behind him.

He wasn’t thankful in the slightest just yet, he supposed, but he was getting there. Slowly, steadily, surely, he would get there.

  
  


*****

“I can’t go there…”

Jamie groaned, rubbing his face with his hand. He had been dealing with the same argument all week long. He knew he should have waited until the day of their luncheon to tell Richard about it. One look at his dear wife and he knew he was in this alone, again. “You can, and you are, Rich. You can’t move on until you see him. You can’t move on until you talk to him. You are doing well, much better than you were before, mate, but you can’t get past what happened until you actually face him.”

Richard folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “I’m doing well, mate. I don’t need him.”

“I didn’t say you need him, mate. I said you need to talk out what happened. You need to tell him how you felt when he ditched everyone. It isn’t just for you, either. It’s for Taron’s well being as well. Obviously you still care a wit about him, and whether he heals from this as well. You can’t tell me differently.”

Richard sighed, lowering his arms slowly. “I suppose you are right in that.” He held his head in his hands. “I do need him, don’t I? I need his smile. I need his laugh. I need his silly comments and weird obsessions. I need his heart, his body, his very soul.”

Jamie nodded, a smile on his face, even though he knew Richard couldn’t see him. “You need each other,” he corrected lightly. “You still have that ring? Today might be a good day to show it off and tell him your grand plans you had before he left. I think… I think he needs to know you think of him as your end game, because really, isn’t that why he left in the first place? Because he wasn’t sure?”

Richard nodded. “I cocked it up. Who’s to say I won’t again?”

“Maybe you will. Maybe you aren’t actually destined for each other. Maybe things have changed too much for both of you. But you know what? You won’t know until you _bloody well chat about it, yeah?_ ” Jamie shook his head. “Get in the shower, mate. Get ready to go. We leave in an hour whether you are ready or not.”

Jamie nodded to himself when Richard got to his feet and scuttled into the bathroom. He looked at Kate. “Thanks for all the help love,” he said, a scowl on his face.

“You did wonderful, lover boy,” she replied, smirking back at him.

******

The silence was deafening. The murmured words as they ‘enjoyed’ their lunch more so. Elton and the boys had made simple sandwiches, and as wonderful as their peanut butter and jelly concoctions were, Taron tasted nothing but ash. He found his eyes glued on Richard, even when he looked away he was still in his mind’s eye, and he was getting quite angry with himself indeed.

The man looked rough. He couldn’t remember a time when Richard looked less than put together in all the time he had known him. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t have muscles practically bulging from his shirts. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t have that smile on his face, reserved only for him. He couldn’t remember a time when he wore such scruff on his face ‘proudly’, nor a time when he had allowed his hair to look his own really: a curly bird’s nest set atop his head.

He tried not to care. He tried to care as little as he could, telling himself that he  _ deserved _ to be so undone by him leaving him. But he did care… Quite a bit, actually.

He felt one side of his mouth quirk, his eyes misting slightly when Richard  _ finally _ looked up quizzically at him. “You look like shite, mate,” he said, shrugging one shoulder up in a ‘ _ I am trying really hard to not care’  _ gesture, that fell flat even to him. He took another bite of his sandwich. Chew.... Ash.

“You don’t look too well yourself either, mate,” Richard finally replied, folding his hands in his lap.

Taron nodded. “I know. My schedule is rather grueling around here,” he said, glaring lightly at David, who only smiled at him in response. “I’m on day 42 of my 90 meetings in 90 days, and for some reason they keep getting earlier and earlier in the day. He woke me up at bloody 8 o’clock this morning. 8 o’clock!”

“I’ve been up since half past 4,” Jamie said, raising his hand slightly. “Silly tots.”

Taron waved his hand at him dismissively. “Oh, no one cares, Jamie-boy. You chose to have children,” Taron said, smiling at him.

“It gets better, mate. Ours sleep until 6 now,” Elton said, huffing with laughter.

“Bleeding wonderful,” Jamie grumbled, his eyes shut, sitting back in his chair.

“Taron, can we talk?,” Richard finally managed to ground out before the next wave of conversation overtook him. “Walk the gardens like we did last time? I…”

“Of course we can, Dickie,” Taron replied gently, setting his napkin on the plate. He ignored the smiles the other adults at the table exchanged as he got to his feet and hefted Peppermint into his arms. He walked out of the room as slowly and dignified as he could, with the huge calico licking his face in his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

They walked around the gardens, so close but so far from each other, in silence. Taron itched to reach over and take Richard’s hand in his own, but each time they brushed together Richard pulled his hand away. Taron nibbled at his bottom lip, trying to come up with something, anything, to get the conversation going, but failed. He sighed, allowing Peppermint to lick away the silent tears that fell from his eyes.

Richard wanted to reach out and take Taron’s hand. He wanted to wipe the tears he knew that were falling from his eyes away. He was always so sensitive, his boy. He wanted to kiss him, tell him it was all forgiven and it was all going to be alright, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he really knew Taron had forgiven him for making him wonder about his love for him.

He sighed, collapsing on the stone bench by the hibiscus plants, just where they had stopped all those months ago, and held his head in his hands. He couldn’t stop the tears of relief, knowing that Taron was safe and recovering, seeing it with his own eyes and not through word of mouth. He felt Taron sit beside him, and the silly cat crawling into his lap and settling contentedly like he had each night Richard had come home after fruitless searching. Peppermint batted at Richard’s hands until he removed them from his head and began to pet the needy little thing.

“How wonderful you are,” Taron whispered, reaching out and placing his hand on Richard’s shoulder. 

Richard looked up in surprise. “What?”

“You have such a big heart, Richard Madden. You have such a good soul. I don’t deserve to have anything to do with you,” he whispered, squeezing his shoulder once and allowing his hand to drop into his own lap. 

Richard took it into his own instead. “Oh, T, you deserve much more than I could ever give you, love. I… I’m not good at romantic lines, you must know that about me by now. But I love you with all that I am. I’m sorry that I allowed you to feel differently. I… I was going to propose on Christmas. I thought that would be a lovely day to do it, because I know how much you love Christmas. I…”

“That would have been brilliant,” Taron whispered, remembering how he spent Christmas day: Alone in the drafty old house he was renting, going through the liquor rather quickly, and praying he had enough to last until the stores opened the day after.

Richard took the ring out of his breast pocket. “I still want to marry you, you know? I still want you to be my end game. If you… If you want to.”

Taron gasped. The ring was all he had ever hoped for. Simple, yet extravagant, just like the man who was giving it to him. “I… I want… I want to, yes, but there are things that happened while I was gone that might make you not want to give it to me, Dickie. I…”

“I know what’s happened, Taron, but that doesn’t matter to me.”

Taron raised an eyebrow. “How do you know? I haven’t told anyone about… all that shit...”

Richard shrugged. “You talked a lot in your sleep while you were recovering in our flat. I could hear you. I know that isn’t the real you, Taron. I know that was the confused and scared you that was looking for some type of companionship because I fucked things up. I don’t care that you slept with one man or twenty whilst you were away. I don’t care if you shot up, drank to bursting, snorted every drug known to man. I don’t care if you have new scars, fresh cuts, or have lost a stone. I care about you, and I care about the future we can have, if you will allow me in to help you.”

Taron nodded, holding out his hand. “I’m broken,” he warned once again, as Richard slipped the ring onto his finger.

Richard smiled. “So am I. We’ll work through it, together, love.”


	7. Chapter 7

Jamie smirked at the pair of them when they finally meandered back into the house, looking so doey eyed for only each other it made him sick. He nudged Elton and nodded at Taron’s hand that glittered in the afternoon light as he raised it to push Richard’s errant curls from his eyes. The delight in Elton’s eyes was always contagious and soon the whole table was smiling and giggling at the pair.

Taron smiled at his family. Because really, that was what they were. Perhaps not all by blood, but by their love and acceptance of him despite… well, himself. “We have an announcement!,” he exclaimed, raising his hand and absolutely  _ beaming _ at his ring. Jamie’s smirk became a genuine smile. He helped pick out that ring after all. “Despite my best efforts to completely sabotage my life, and believe me when I say, I came very close on multiple occasions… Dickie still wishes to marry me!”

The cheer that burst from the table was deafening. Taron and Richard shared a small smile before their lips met in an absolutely adorable kiss. Jamie was the first to stand and clap them both on the shoulders. He was so  _ happy _ for the pair he felt his eyes begin to water. “I call best man for one of ya!,” he found himself joking. “Because without me, this wouldn’t have happened, I tell ya…”

Taron wrapped his arms around him and kissed his forehead. “You’re my Bernie, therefore you are my best man. Without you I would have died numerous times, Jamie-boy. You were always there when I needed to ring someone, even at three in the morning after a one night stand gone wrong. Dickie will just have to find his own, won’t he?”

“I love you, T,” Richard only said, pulling him in for another kiss before he was dragged away from him by his family. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly, a smile on his face, as he watched Taron beaming down at his Mam as they and Elton began to speak of the wedding planning. “Thank you, Jamie, for helping us get here. I will always appreciate all your work on making us see sense. It can’t have been easy.”

“No… No, it was not, you knucklehead. But I’m thankful all the same,” Jamie replied, shoving his own hands in his pockets. “Now that everything has gone to wedding planning, though, I think I’ll see myself out. Kate did all the planning for ours because I don’t understand the importance of colors and flowers and the like. If you want to come with, feel free and we can share a pint in celebration, or you can stay. I shan’t be bothered either way.”

“I think I’ll stay,” Richard murmured. “I don’t want to end up in a lavender tux.”

“It brought out my complexion, darling,” Jamie replied, folding his arms across his chest. “At least that’s what Kate insisted.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, mate.”


End file.
